Gretchen

 

When:  May 1984 to January 1985

Status:  Married 25 years, 2 grown children

Occupation:  Lawyer

Age:  46

Meetings:  Lost count

Quoteable:  "Why isn't this shit (pot) legal?"

As I mentioned in the Nora entry, I had some inside intel on Tommy's mom, Gretchen.  And settle in--it's a long entry.

Speaking of Nora, she did a fucking job on this guy.  He was fucking ruined for a few months.  How do I know?

He told me.  And I loved every minute of it.

I was working on a new rehab in March when he walked by.  He just looked fucking broken.  Over four months after Nora blasted him, he hadn't recovered.  

"Hey, what's up, Tommy?"

Yeah, I knew what was wrong.  And I couldn't resist.  Tommy had always treated his girlfriends--at least the ones I knew about--like shit.  

"Hey dude.  Just getting over a breakup."
"That sucks.  Totally been there."

And he then went on to spill out all the gruesome details of his breakup.

Nora did, indeed, break up with him over the phone.  And she told him everything about our New Year's Eve fuckfest.  Of course, she didn't mention exactly who she spent it with, luckily for me. 

There must have been a ton of shit going on between them, because it sounds like she had a lot of pent-up anger--and she blasted him with it.  Of course, I did suggest she cheat on him (with me, of course) and let him know that she cheated.  So, hey, I guess I have to own up to that.

 

Anyway, back to the subject of this entry.  So what was this inside info I had on Gretchen?  Well, it all goes back to Lana.  

During our few days together back in March of 1982, Lana had cued me in on a ton of gossip, info, whatever you want to call it.  And she cued me into what ladies I had a really good shot with, such as Elizabeth.

And as you might remember from the Lana entry, she had a nice little side business going, growing and selling lots of marijuana.

And so one day, after having downed a joint and engaged in sexual congress....

~Start Dream Sequence Music ~

"So....who else do you sell to?"

"You know that Dr. and his wife?  Last name Smith?"

"That asshole.  He smokes?"

"Only cigarettes.  His wife, Gretchen.  She smokes."

"She's a lawyer, right?"
"Uh huh.  She uses it to unwind." 

"Probably needs it to unwind from her husband."

"He's an asshole.  But her job stresses her out, too.  Sometimes Gretchen and I would 

light up together."

"She's kind of hot.  Think I'd have a shot?"

"Oh yeah.  We were high a few months ago and I confessed that I wanted to fuck you.  She

took a hit and said, 'You're not the only one,' so yeah....."

~End Dream Sequence Music~

I locked away that little bit of information in my "Fuck Information Vault" and went about my business.  

Seeing Tommy reminded me of that conversation.  And his mother, Gretchen,.....well she wasn't too bad to look at.  But it had been awhile since I had last talked to Lana.  Did Gretchen even still toke anymore?  Did she still maybe want to fuck your boy?  It had been almost two years since I had that great time with Lana.

I kicked myself for not acting sooner on this.  But hey, it wasn't like I didn't have a ton of poachettes during that time.  But still, missing out on one would have sucked.

The more the merrier!

Anyway, I decided to keep that info at the front of my mind.  And when I had the chance, I'd find out if I could poach her after all.  

And that chance came in May.  I was working on a Don Rehab Special one day when my girl Trish popped in.

"Hey loser."
"What do you want?"

"6569.  Can you run over today?"

6569?  That's the unit Tommy and his parents lived in.  

"Why?"

"Railing on the deck porch needs securing.  It's really loose."

"Do you really need the 'it's really loose' there?"
"Fuck the shut up."

"That sounds like a Trish job."

"Yeah, yeah.  But I'm swamped."

"So fix it tomorrow."

"You're really trying to cut off the supply, aren't you?"

Then she pointed at her girl zone.

"Okay, okay," I said, laughing.  

"Don will toss you a few bucks too."

"Am I still cut off?"

She laughed.  "Nah."

So around five I started to head over.  Then I stopped myself.  And had a genius idea.  Well, a genius idea for me.

I went out to my car and grabbed a joint.  Then I went inside the unit and took off my shirt.  I lit up the joint and sucked a mouthful of Mother Nature in and blew it all over my shirt.  Then I repeated the process.

"Trying to get the shirt high, Ryan?" you may be asking.  

No.  But Gretchen was--or had been--a toker.  That I knew.  So she'd certainly recognize the smell, right?  At least that was what I was banking on.

I put my now-scented shirt back on and went up to Gretchen's.  I was thrilled when I saw her black Mercedes in the large carport and didn't see Dr. FuckBall's BMW.  

Couch sex is great.

I knocked on the door and saw Gretchen.  

"Hello, Ryan."
"Hello Mrs. Smith."
"You can call me Gretchen.  I thought Trish was coming."

"She's tied up, so I thought I'd help her out."

"Oh, very nice of you.  Come on in."

She led me to the back and showed me the railing.  All I had to do was replace some screws.  But first....

"Uh, sorry about the shirt here.....a couple of friends dropped by and one of them likes to, you know, a lot."

She laughed.  

"Yeah, I thought I smelled something."

"Could we....keep that a secret?  Don't want Don finding out."

"Oh, of course.  My lips are sealed."

You're welcome.  After this song was released, which was the first hit for the Go-Go's, there was a joke going around.  "Why are the Go-Go's still virgins?  Because their lips are sealed."  Hey, I didn't say it was a GOOD joke.

I got my tools and started the job.  I was hoping Gretchen would hang around, and I wasn't disappointed.  We made small talk as I worked and admired her shorts and tank-top ensemble.  Finally, I heard the question that I had been hoping to hear.

"So....do you, you know?"

I made the universal toking gesture.  

"That?"

"Uh huh."

"Sometimes.  Do you?"

"I used to sometimes.....but my, uh, 'provider' moved away."

"Yeah.....I miss Lana too."

Her eyes opened wide.

"You know that Lana was selling it?"
"Yeah, she mentioned it right before she moved away."

"Oh wow.  I could actually use some now.....been forever....."

"I can help with that."

"Oh yeah.  How much do you charge?"
"I don't sell.  But I can easily get my hands on some."
"When?"
"Tomorrow night?  After you get home?"

"Yeah....why don't you come over around five? 

"What about your husband?  And Tommy?"
"Kevin's in Phoenix at a conference.  And Tommy's visiting

friends in San Diego."

"Neither's home now?"
"No."

"Well.....let me finish up here.  

I finished up the railing and said, "Be right back, Gretchen."

I walked/ran to my car and opened my secret compartment, hoping that at least one joint was in there and sure enough, it was.  And it was a "fuck you up" joint.

I walked/ran back up and went into the backyard and onto the deck.  I lit up the joint and handed it to her.  Gretchen took a long, hard drag.  We then sat next together

We destroyed that joint--I let Gretchen have most of it--in just a few minutes.  And Gretchen was high as a kite.  And I subtly--at least I thought subtly--slid my left arm around her shoulders.  Not long after, Gretchen put her hand on my leg and squeezed a little.

"Shit, this stuff is strong!" she giggled, and squeezed my leg again.  I rubbed and ran my fingers up and down her upper arm..

"Ryan, thank you so much."

"My pleasure.  I'll get you some more."
"I'd appreciate that so much."
"Anything for you."

She smiled.

"Anything?"

I leaned over and we started kissing.  She slid her tongue into my mouth as I slid my hand up her shirt and played with her hard nipples--no bra I liked that, of course.

After several minutes of kissing, she pulled away and said, "C'mon.  Let's go inside."

We went into her bedroom and stripped off our clothes.  We wrapped our arms around each other and started kissing.  After about a minute, Gretchen pulled away and smiled and said, "I want to suck your cock."

And she did just that, kneeling down and taking my hard cock into her mouth.  

After a few minutes of this glorious blowjob, Gretchen stood up and smiled.  I laid her down on the bed and spread her legs.  I took a quick look at one of Dr. AssFuck's picture, smiled to myself and thought, "Hey dude.  My tongue's about to perform some physical therapy on your wife's pussy."

I worked on Gretchen's wet pussy for several minutes, alternating between running my tongue and and down her lips, licking her hard clit, and sliding it in and out of her pussy.  It didn't take too much of this "therapy" until Gretchen cried out that she was cumming.  She arched her back and grabbed her tits as she came.

I then mounted her and slid my hard cock into her wet pussy.  She let out of soft grunt as the head of my cock slid in.  She wrapped her legs around mine and placed and her hands on my hips and told me to fuck her fast and hard.

I was happy to oblige.  I thrust hard into her pussy for several minutes until I heard her whimper that she was going to cum.  I kept pounding her all the way through her intense orgasm.  

She looked up at me and said, "C'mon baby....fill me up....."  

I continued to fuck her hard, and Gretchen kept encouraging me to shoot my load.  Soon, I felt that familiar feeling and knew I was about to shoot my payload.  

Gretchen could tell that I was about to cum and moved her hips fast and hard.  And right after that I filled up her snatch.  

We kissed and she smiled and said, "Fuck you're good.  I wanted to give you a good fuck so you'll cum back for more!  I've always had a little thing for you!"

"Well, you certainly did that."

Mr. Happy was still nice and hard.  I pulled my cock out of her pussy and smiled.  Gretchen saw my still-hard cock and smiled back.

I laid on the bed and Gretchen straddled me and eased down onto my hard cock.  This fuck lasted much longer, since I had just shot a load and Gretchen took advantage of it, cumming several times.  I was able to hold on for about twenty minutes as she rocked and gyrated on a very happy Mr. Happy.

At point she groaned, looked down, smiled and said, "I could get used to this."

"You WILL get used to this."

"Fuck yeah I will....."

Soon after than exchange, I blew another load into Gretchen's pussy.  We cuddled for a few minutes and then took a shower together.  And then I headed out to meet Angela for some fun.

We made arrangements for the next day and I was on my way home.

The next day I drove up to Brindlewood and started working.  I had a dilemma, although it was a nice dilemma to have.  Should I provide Gretchen with pot on a meeting-to-meeting basis?  Or should I just give her a bunch and be done with it and see what happens?

I had plenty.  Allow me to 'splain.

So let's go back to the Lana entry.  And you might remember how I wrote that she hooked up her clients with most of her remaining stock?  Well, there was still a lot left.  I just didn't know how much.  But I would soon find out.

So anyway, Lana had left and I was in the bathroom counting my money and putting Lana's rings into my pocket when I heard the banging of a door.  I went outside and checked the shed in their backyard.  

Nope.  That was latched and locked.  Then I heard it again and went in the direction of  the sound.  I walked into the tree line and followed the path and there it was, just outside the trees on the other side.  The door was getting blown open by the wind and then closing.  Wash, rinse, repeat.  

So I walked up and peered in.  It wasn't a disaster area, but it was pretty clear that it hadn't been used in quite a while, judging by the dust buildup.

I looked down at my watch.  It was 12:30.  Lana had mentioned that Jack wouldn't get back until early evening.  So I decided to wander in and look around.

Now, of course, I had no idea to whom this shed belonged.  It was technically on Don's property, but it was just vacant land.  It wasn't in the park's boundaries at all (at least not at that point.)  But I figured I'd just take a look around, anyway.

There were some sawhorses, tools, a lawnmower, a few other things.  And I saw a couple of large metal cabinets running all along the back wall.  I was going to open them, but saw that they were secured with padlocks.

I figured, oh well, and headed back to Lana's place.  I took a shower and dried off and took the towel over to the hamper in the small laundry room.  I saw a couple of toolboxes in the corner along with.....

....a lock cutter.

Well, well.....

I grabbed the lock cutters and headed back to the shed.  I cut the lock off the first cabinet and opened it.  It was full of plastic bags full of pot.

And I knew that it was Lana's.  Lana was so organized that she had a precise way of labelling her bags.  One, type of pot.  Two, where it originated.  Three, when it was planted.  Four, when it was cultivated.  Five, effects of the pot.

I started going through the cabinets, all stuffed with all her different varieties.  And all of it was stored in large, vacuum-sealed food storage bags. 

The weird thing is, is why didn't she have us get rid of this stuff?  She was genuinely concerned about leaving anything that kids could find.  Did she just forget?  As hard as that was to believe, there was a lot of dust on those bags.  Looking at the dates, most of it was over a year old.  

We could have easily--well, fairly easily--thrown it all in the various dumpsters, especially knowing that trash pickup was on Monday morning.

I was so immersed in this little discovery that when the door banged again, I almost jumped out of my skin.  I was fucking around with thousands of dollars of weed.  And I was getting a little jumpy.  What if somebody else knew about this and was coming back?  People get shot over this type of thing.  And most assuredly, I didn't want to get shot.  

Well, whatever the reason for Lana leaving all of this pot was, I needed to either dump it, just leave it there, or find a perfect hiding place--and I had one.  And it sure as fuck wasn't at home.  

No, it was that basement apartment that I've mentioned in the Erica and Nora entries.

I called it a "small room" in the Erica entry, but the whole space was probably around 800 square feet.  So maybe I should have referred to it as a small space instead.  

Anyway, in the back of the converted apartment, there was a utility room, where a washer and dryer were.  And opposite the washer and dryer was a storage area.

That area was recessed into the wall and had eight long shelves about a foot and a half wide.  There was more then enough room for all the bags.  

Anyway, I found a box of trash bags in the shed and tossed all the mother nature in them.  It took quite a few trips, but eventually got it all into my hideout and put them on the shelves and had my private stash.

Yes, I know that I didn't mention all of this in Lana's entry.  I was going to, but that entry was already so long.  And I knew I could always revisit the subject.  

Right after we met,  I took Trish down to my little hideaway one day for some fucky-wucky and after we were done, I showed her the stash.  Trish's eyes widened at the site of it.

"Where.....what.....?"

"I got it from Lana."

She looked at me but didn't say anything.  It was the only time I can remember Trish being speechless.  So we sat down on the bed and smoked some lettuce and I told Trish all about Lana and all about her background and how I found this stash in that shed I happened upon that Monday.

After I was done, Trish just shook her head and laughed.   

"Whenever you want some, just take it."

"Thanks!  I will!  You know.....we should probably take a few more steps."

"Like what?"

"Well.....give me a couple of days and I'll show you."

Then she leaned forward and we started kissing and, well, you can guess what happened next.

A couple of days later, I was walking away Gemini's house when after just a couple of minutes I was approached by a sneering Trish.  You might recall that Trish and Gemini didn't exactly care for one another.

"Hey, dudeeeeee.....peace.  Hang ten!  The horoscope says it's a good day to get high and fuck.  Let's drop some acid.  Let's go to a love-in!"

She was holding up her hands making peace signs while saying this.  Needless to say, coming down off of a high after a fuck and toke session with Gemini (not to mention having to hear several references to Trish as "Miss Uptight Stick Up Her Fucking Ass" by the surfer girl), I was really not in the mood to listen to more of this.  

I don't know what happened with them but they could not stand the sight of one another.  I am convinced that if anything over there needed to be repaired, had Gemini stayed, Trish would have demanded that I fix it and not her--even though it would of been her responsibility.  And Trish's dislike of Gemini probably made her fuck her husband even before Gemini split for San Diego.

"Alright, alright."

"C'mon, follow me."

We walked down to the pool and went downstairs and into the washer room.  

  

"Taaaaa-dahhhhhhhh!"

I looked and saw that the storage area now had two doors.  

"Where did you get these?"

She pointed up.

"The old pool storage room?"

"Yup.  I saw this," Trish said, tapping the door jam, "and thought that the doors might be around here somewhere."

"This is awesome!  Thank you."

"Your girl always gets the job done!"

"That's for sure.  Not to sound ungrateful, but what happened to the doorknobs?"

Trish smiled.

"Beats me.  You know....maybe have someone come in and install a some heavy-duty locks on these doors.  And the door to this room."

Once again, a great idea from Trish.  I could've purchased some locks and had her put them on, but I wanted an expert to suggest the type of locks and install them.  And I had just the person in mind.

When I got home that night, I called an old poachette of mine named Joy.  Joy was a married girl I banged a couple of years earlier and just happened to be a locksmith.  A few days later, she came up and secured all the doors.  Set me back a couple of hundred bucks, but it was well worth it.  Sadly, I didn't get to fuck her again.  But the pot was safe.  And Joy left with a large stash of pot for her enjoyment.

So after that long detour, let's get back to Gretchen.

Gretchen getting ready for work after some very early

morning sex.

Back to Gretchen.  

The day after I fucked Gretchen, I drove up and spent the day working on a rehab.  Around 5:15, Gretchen was knocking on the door.

"Hey cutie!  Wanna come over?"
"Absolutely.  I'll pack up and be over in a few."

"Awesome!"

It was a Friday, and I had a feeling that I'd be spending a couple of days plowing Gretchen.  And that was a good feeling.  Her husband and Tommy wouldn't be home until Monday.  

I gathered up my equipment and supplies and threw them into my car.  Then I drove down to my little hideout and figured, fuck it, I'll just give her a couple of big bags of pot.  If she was only fucking me to get some pot, and I got dumped after stocking her up, so what.  I had plenty of poachettes, anyway.

Gretchen's eyes got so wide when I brought her the bags.  She tried to pay me, but I told her that I got it all for free and if she really wanted to pay me back....well....

Well, let's just say I spent the weekend fucking a very grateful lawyer.

Gretchen and her husband (and Tommy) moved into a house they bought in Claremont a few months later in August.  We continued to hook up until January, when we almost got caught red-handed and bare-assed by her husband one day.

We had just finished our second fuck of the day when to our horror, we heard the front door shut.  Then we heard, "Gretchen, I'm home."

I had to hide for half an hour underneath their bed until Gretchen came in and snuck me out the front door.  Later that night, she called and ended it.  A close call like that will almost always bring a cheating wife (and husband, I suppose) back to their senses and this was no exception.

But hey, it was a good run.  And we parted on good terms.  At least I thought so.

But in 1991, I was sent to interview at her firm by my legal staffing service for a position that would last about four to six months.  I was pretty excited about this job.  It paid really, really well.  And the firm had a great reputation.  So I went in one morning for a panel interview and sat down. 

Five people came in and sat down.  And I sat back down and surveyed the panel that would be grilling me and saw a very familiar face:  Gretchen.  And that face was not smiling, but scowling.  

Fuck.  As in what the fuck?  And it didn't get any better from there.

Any chance she could pound me, she did.  There wasn't much to hit me on.  My writing portfolio was outstanding (and I say that in all humility), and my knowledge and experience were on point.  

One area she kept hitting me on was my undergrad GPA (2.9).  My GPA in the legal assistant program was 4.0.  Perfect.  But she kept going back to the undergrad GPA.  What the fuck can you say?  It's like, yeah, I wasn't a great undergrad student.   

Needless to say, I didn't get the gig.  I was so fucking pissed.  If she didn't want me there because I had plowed her several years earlier, all she had to do was pull me aside and just tell me that.  If nothing else, I had proved that I was discreet.  

Hannah, the lady who sent me, was livid.  I was one of her "gold standard"--according to her--legal assistants.  And when she sent a "gold standard", the interviews were always more of a get-to-know-you type of thing.  They were more of a formality.  

After the interview, she called me and asked what happened.  I told her what happened during the interview, especially the undergrad GPA,  and she just sighed.  "Bitch.  Who fucking cares about that?"

I do have a theory as to why Gretchen turned on me, and I'll address it very soon.

For Gretchen's pics, click here (members only).